The Guardians of Fleet Street
by Ember Belli
Summary: They warned her not to get involved with Mr.Todd. It wasn't until Lovett discovered their secret that she finally understood what they meant. Can Toby and Genevieve save their beloved baker before it's too late for her?
1. Genevieve

**Welcome to my first Sweeny Todd fanfic! I should tell you all this before I get started, I have only seen the movie once. But, I couldn't pass this idea up. As you all know, I love creating females OC's that change the characters view at life. Same idea for this one, but different movie. Enjoy. I have a question. What is Sweeny's Barber shop called? My brother keeps telling me that it's "Polish you off" but, I don't believe him. Is what he says true? **

**Thanks,**

**~BethQueenofRoses~**

**Summary: Genevieve Violet Willoughby is an orphan of two years. Cold and starving, Genevieve rides the back streets of London upon her only possession, her black stallion, Gulliver. Once a rich heiress, Genevieve is determined to begin a new life. During a dark and rainy night, as the two trotted down Fleet Street, a cry in the night catches their attention. When Genevieve discovers that it is Nellie Lovette-who has been robbed and injured, Genevieve is stunned, and helps the woman to safety. Ms. Lovette takes the girl under her wing, giving her a job in her bakery. Genevieve is happier than ever. Until, a tall, dark man moves into town, Sweeny Todd. Genevieve notices a change in 's behavior. Will Genevieve be able to find why Sweeny Todd is altering the moods around those around her? **

My name is Genevieve Violet Willoughby, and there is only one truly interesting thing about me; I am an orphan of two years. I have no home, no friends, no one to call my own. I spend the days riding the streets as a beggar. I circle Fleet Street many a day, upon my only possession, my black stallion, Gulliver. Riding completely at liberty- no saddle or bridle, holding his mane- I walk the glum streets looking for a way to begin my new life. I have no clue why, but Fleet Street feels like home to me. Every time I round a corner, and come off of Fleet Street, my stomach begins to churn and I can't help but turn around. Life was good for me, until the accident happened. I was the daughter of proud, rich parents, now; I'm a homeless lug who has nothing to offer except for a stallion.

I was born in London to English parents. They owned many businesses. We had ships, horses, dogs, cooks, maids, and even three butlers, all along with a huge manor. My life was perfect back then, until someone retaliated against my father, and set our whole manor aflame. Gulliver and I were the only survivors. From then on, we spent our days wandering the streets. There are two of us, and one-half of us is practically starving; me. Gulliver eats grass from the fields near the ship yards. Here, we sleep under a bridge, huddled against one another for warmth.

As we plodded down Fleet Street one morning, people shot me absurd looks, as if they have never noticed me before. How could they notice a good-for-nothing orphan girl riding a dirty black stallion, then again, how could anyone? With the sound of whispers and Gulliver's gentle clip-clop against the cobblestone street, something does not seem quite right. Normally, the street is filled with the giggles of drunken rich men, and the laughter of children- who are actually well fed- as they chased one another. Something about this day wasn't right in the least bit. I first noticed it when Mrs. Lovette's bakery was not as filled as it usually is. As I rode at a walk past it, looking through the window, I could only spot two or three people, rather than ten or fifteen. Had it been a normal day, the bakery would have early birds craving delicious meat pies, piling in making a quick wad of money. I had such urges to try a meat pie for myself, if only I could make myself the smallest pound. I would walk into there, and buy one, and share it with Gulliver as well.

"Get out of the road, girl!" a rather stout man sneered at me.

I sighed, and, forced to obey, slightly pressed my left heel against Gulliver's side, making him move to the edge of the road. Most people got out of the way of Gulliver and I, but, some are plain rude. It's not like I'm trying to be first, I'm just going wherever the crowded streets take me, really.

One rainy evening, I was forced to trot down Fleet Street, rather than walk. The thunder and lightning was close to London, and we had to take cover under our bridge. Candles flickered in their glass containers in the windows of shops and homes. I was soaked, so was Gulliver, and so was my single brown dress. I would have cantered, had it not been for the chance of Gulliver slipping out from under me on the muddy roads. The chance scared me. Hence, I stayed at a mere trot. As we neared the end of the street, a loud, bloodcurdling scream made me skid Gulliver to a stop. He pivoted on his back legs, and looked into the darkness of the street we had just ridden down. If I knew Gulliver as much as I thought, someone was in trouble.

Gulliver shook his head, screamed slightly. He then, shot forward, into a canter, and I clutched to his mane.

He wove through alleys, and around buildings. He stopped behind an old brick building. Why was my horse so off his rocker this evening? He approached the opening to an alley, and stared down into it. At the end, the moonlight illuminated a figure, sitting upon the ground. Two other figures were leaning over it. Gulliver pawed the cobblestone impatiently, and snorted. I tensed as he half-reared, and took off.

The two figures took one good look in our direction, and fled the scene. Gulliver skidded to a halt before the figure upon the ground. It was a woman. I could tell because her hair was taken down, and her hat- that she must have been wearing- was upon the ground. She resembled me in a lot of ways, black, curly hair, and brown eyes. As I looked down upon her half-illuminated figure, I knew suddenly who it was.

It was , the bakery owner.

She had been attacked, in what way, I had not a clue. But I could tell that she required help.

"Help me," she whispered. "They have taken my belongings."

I slid from Gulliver's back, and knelt beside her.

"I know you," she said. She eyed me closely. "You're that girl who rides the horse by my bakery all of the time," she observed. "The girl who everyone claims to see."

I nodded, a little frightened. "Yes, I am she. I am Genevieve Willoughby," I explained quietly.

She gave me a look filled with hope. "Help me, Genevieve," she whispered.

I had just met her, but I had to help her. Something in my head told me that I could benefit greatly for aiding her. So, I helped her onto Gulliver, and I mounted in front of her, she held onto my waist tightly. She put her hat on her head with a free hand. I felt like a heroine for once in the past two years, rather than a homeless orphan. I gently walked the wet woman and the horse onto the illuminated street.

"What on earth are you doing all the way out here, Mrs. Lovette?" I asked.

She sighed. "I thought that I saw a man I recognized, so I followed him," she said. "All was fine until those _bastards _attacked me," she admitted, lowering her voice into something evil and seductive as she said the word "bastards." As we plodded along, I was very careful not to accidentally urge Gulliver forward, for would be sent flying. "They took my money and my broach," she admitted.

I was curious. "What broach?" I asked, for I had never seen her wearing one before.

"The broach me husband gave me just before he…..well, ya know. Anyway, I was attached to that broach. Where are all of the damn policemen?" she hissed between clenched teeth. As we neared her bakery, she said, "Take me to my bakery, Genevieve," she pleaded.

I did as requested. When I halted Gulliver before the bakery, she reached into a hidden pocket of her black dress. "Damn! They stole me key! Thank god I carry an extra. Help me, girl. It's in me boot," she said, holding a leg away from Gulliver. I fished it out, and unlocked the huge oak door. I then, helped her into the bakery, where she sat in a chair. "Ahh, much better," she sighed.

"Mrs. Lovette, I believe that you have hurt you ankle," I said, as I examined it, as she had asked me to. It was swollen, and covered in bruises.

"Aye, it be swollen alright," she replied. She looked over at the single candle I had lit, which flickered on the table at her side. "Light a fire in the hearth, will you?" she asked kindly.

I silently obeyed. As I was bent over the hearth, attempting to start a fire, Mrs. Lovette sighed. Then came the questions. "Why do you and that horse of yours seem to wander aimlessly round these parts?" she asked from her chair. "You should be home helpin' your mum cook or somethin'."

After I finally got a descent fire started, I turned to her, and sat on the ground. "Well, , that's just it. I don't have a family…..well…..I did, I had a wonderful family."

A solemn look came over her. "What happened?"

I sighed. "My father was a rich man, and my mother was a midwife. Some evil man set our manor aflame, while we were still inside. Gulliver and I were the only survivors. I was asleep in my bed, and the smell of pure smoke awoke me. I lost everything that night. Luckily, I had enough time to grab a gown, and save my horse," I said, looking down at my torn dress. "I had just enough time to release the rest of the mounts in the barn. My parents lost their lives for someone's stupidity."

She clutched a hand to her breast, and gasped. "How awful," she said. She then stopped, and pondered something through and through. "Wait, you are John Willoughby's daughter, are you not?" she asked.

My eyes brightened. "You knew my father?"

"Of course, dearie! He used to be one of my favorite customers, just before he met your mum," she exclaimed happily.

I decided to change the subject of my minor heart break. "Are you warm enough, Mrs. Lovette?"

She nodded, and once again, changed the subject. "Were do you sleep if you have no home?"

I sighed, I couldn't lie to someone who I ad just saved. "Under the cobblestone bridge by the sea ports," I said.

"My goodness, no! That's it. Look at me, a bakery owner with an empty house, with untouched rooms, and warm beds, and the fact that a little orphaned girl is starving and sleeping under a bridge. No! That won't cut it. Genevieve, I want you to stay here with me."

I blushed. "Oh, no, I couldn't possibly impose on you and your business," I said.

She swiped a hand in the air. "Nonsense. You can work in the bakery with me; I always need the extra help. Besides, I get lonely living all by myself."

I swiped my lashes over my brows. "Are you sure, ?"

"Of course! I insist. Now, run along and take care of that stallion of yours, I'm sure he's cold. You can put him in the carriage house round back. There's an empty stall. We can get food from a friend of mine."

I stood up, and thanked her, and ran out into the rain to put Gulliver in the carriage house.


	2. MrTodd

**Awww, still no reviews****, what's the matter, guys, you don't like it? That's alright, this is my first Sweeney Todd fanfic, and so, it may have some false facts, for now. But, the good news is that Sweeney Todd is on TV twice on Halloween, and on twice on the Monday night following All Hallows Eve, so, I should have some experience before chapter 3 goes up. **

was very kind to me, more kind than anyone had been to me in a long, long time. She gave me a warm bed in her home, and nice warm meat pies to eat. It was the Monday following the stormy night, when I began my job in the bakery. Gulliver now had hay and fresh water to drink; other than that nasty sea water. I felt at home here.

As soon as we opened, I began washing the counter top, as had asked me to, while she began baking. As soon as the oven was stuffed full with delicious meat pies, she sat in a chair behind the counter, just waiting. She eyed the now clean counter top, and decided to break the awkward silence with a compliment, directed towards me.

"Lovely job, Genevieve, ya quite the workah," she said.

As the day rolled by, and customers came and went, I was away at sweeping the floors. I hardly recognized anyone who came into the bakery on my first day. I only recognized a man with blue eyes and blond hair, a man who I always saw wandering Fleet Street. I ceased to know his name. But he seemed a good man. I noticed the way he gently conversed with , talking to her as if he had to ponder the words that crossed his lips thoroughly in his mind, as if she would draw a cleaver on him or some act of stupidity. As I swept in the corner of the bakery, towards the front window, I found myself taking small glances at the man. By the time he left, how I wanted to know his name.

I noticed that the bakery became very hot, for every mere minute or two; was removing fresh pies from it. I had to admit that the bakery was small, and it had a very intriguing tone to it, but still, it was much better than living on the streets. I continued my jobs quietly, hardly talking or making the smallest sound. Around noontide, the only noise in the bakery was the sound of my broom as I swished it across the battered stone floor. had run out to pick up some more flour, or something of the kind. All I knew was that she said she was going out, and to watch the bakery, for she'd be back shortly. So, I did.

While she was gone, I sold six pies. I was so ecstatic to sell my very fist pie that I thought my long, straight black hair would curl.

When returned, she held two immense bags of flour. I leaned the broom against the wall, and ran to her aid.

"Let me 'elp you with that," I said, taking both of the bags from her hold. I took them down into the cellar, and set them on the shelf. As I made my way towards the stairs up to the shop, something caught my eye. There, in the middle of the room was another oven. This one looked like it was iron-cast and roaring flames burned maliciously within it. My temples started to pound for a moment. Danger. Danger. When called for me, I snapped back into reality, and ran up the stairs. Mrs. Lovett was standing in the small alcove that was on the left side of her shop, her sitting room.

She held a tape measure up. "Come, Genevieve, let us take your measure for a new dress."

I smiled, and ran to her. After she took all she needed, she looked at the measurements carefully. "God, you're smaller than I am," she teased. "You need to gorge yourself more, girl." She looked sadly at a portrait of an obese man on the wall. "My Albert loved to gorge 'imself. Aye that he did." She sent me to close up the shop, for it was almost dusk. As I entered the room, I noticed a figure standing in the doorway. A tall figure, at that.

"'Ello, who's there?" I asked quietly.

The figured stayed as is.

I raised my brows. "Can I help you, sir?" I asked.

The figure stepped into the light that the oven produced. It was indeed a male. He had long, scruffy black hair, with a very conspicuous white streak in the corner of his head. He had dark, demonic like eyes.

He cleared his throat. "I am lookin' for ," he said.

I nodded. "Please, 'ave a seat, and I shall g and fetch her," I said pleasingly. I walked toward the alcove, and stuck my head in. Mrs. Lovett was sitting in front of the fire on her small sofa-thing, reading a book. "Mrs. Lovett," I whispered.

She turned her face at me. "Yes?"

"There's a man here to see you," I replied.

She quirked her brows. "A man? What's this 'man' look like?"

I thought for a moment. "'E's tall, with black hair and a pale face."

She got up. "Humph, I never 'eard of him. Ah, well, I bet I should speak with the man." As she began walking out into the shop, she pivoted on her heel, and faced me. "Did you lock up?"

"Yes, ma'am," I replied.

"Good, now, run along a fetch some supper. Oh, and, bring me a bottle of gin and a glass from the cupboard, would ya, love?" she asked kindly.

"Yes, ma'am."

As she disappeared into the shop, I made my way into the back of the building, to her small living space. I fetched the gin and two glasses, incase the stranger wanted some. I then smoothly went into the shop, and presented it to them.

then kindly shooed me to go eat supper, which I did. I ate one meat pie, and was surprisingly full. Besides, I was too focused on the strange man to gorge myself. After supper, I hid behind the wall in the alcove. I sat on the floor, back pressed against it, listening to the conversation they had.

It wasn't an hour later, that discovered me.

"Genevieve, come out, I know you're there," she said.

I crawled into sight, and advanced to a chair next to her.

"Genevieve, this is Mr. Barker…," she trailed.

"No!" hissed the man. "Not Barker. It's Todd now. Sweeney Todd."

"Well, then. , this is Genevieve, my helper in the shop."

"A pleasure," said.

"'Tis more a pleasure," I replied quietly.


	3. The attic and the razors

There I sat, in my awkward position between Todd and Lovett . I had grown quite fond of listening them talk. They went to talking about the barber who formerly lived upstairs. I eventually caught on, and realized that was that barber. took us up into the old barber shop to show it to . It was an old dusty room, with a slanted window on part of the ceiling. You could see most of London from there. It was a magnificent sight from there.

"It's dusty but, the same," Lovett murmured to Todd. She advanced across the room, got to her knees, and began brushing the dust from a floor board. She pulled gently at the nails and the floor board came up. She reached into the floor, and revealed a silver box. "I could've sold these but, I didn't." She opened the box, and revealed four silver razors.

Todd got a look of obsession and remembrance across his face. Gently, as if handing a child, he removed one from the box, and opened it. The blades were pure silver and I could see his reflection in it as he flashed it across the room. He stood up, and held it before him, as if he had discovered something amazing.

"My arm….is complete again," he said proudly. He turned his face at . "Leave me," he whispered.

Mrs. Lovett gave a look of disappointment, then, walked toward the door. "Come, Genevieve," she bade, and I followed her outside and down into the shop.

I sat at the table, and sighed, leaning on my elbow.

"What'd you think of him, Genevieve?" she asked me.

I quirked a brow, "'E's alright, I guess. 'E's a little strange," I admitted.

She poured two goblets of gin for her and me. "Come, Genevieve, 'e's a nice man. There's nothin' to be scared of about . "E's lonely, just like I was once." She joined me at the table, and set a goblet of gin before me.

"What do you mean, you _were_ lonely?" I asked. For something I thought that she was still a little lonely.

"Well, I 'ave you now," she said, a little saddened. She lowered her head a tad. "I'm so grateful to 'ave someone to talk to." She sipped her gin. "It's nice to 'ave you around, Genevieve."

I fluttered my lashes to show that I understood. "It's good to be around for someone." I fingered the edge of the cup for a moment, running it around the rim. "If only I knew…." I trailed.

"Knew what?"

"Well, knew who murdered my parents."

"Could've been anyone,"she said.

Just then, Sweeney entered the shop. He went to 's side and knelt by her. And for some reason, something changed within him. He did the creepiest thing I ever known him to do. He began running his hands up Lovett's dress, and up her legs.

To stop this, I cleared my throat loudly.

They snapped. covered her legs, and scrambled to her feet. "Here, Genevieve," she said, reaching into her dress pocket, and handed me two pennies. "Take this down the street and buy us some toffees. Alright?" she asked.

I approached her, and took the two pennies, and said, "Yes, ma'am."

I quickly moved from the shop, and into the carriage house to fetch Gulliver. I mounted him quickly, and cantered out from the small structure, and into the street.


	4. The creature

**In this chappie, we discover something about Genevieve that no one expected. This is the chapter where the story starts to have various POV's. Enjoy!**

_Genevieve's POV…_

I eased Gulliver down the road, toward the small candy shop on the corner of Fleet Street. Once at the candy shop, I dismounted, and gently patted his rumpus, dismissing him to go into the back alley to hide from the constable who roamed smoothly down the street nearby. After all, stray horses were captured and sent off to the butcher. He snorted and obediently trotted into the back alley.

As asked, I fetched a bag of toffees. As I exited the shop, I found myself in an uncomfortable position. Across the street, a short, pudgy man in a top hat and waistcoat stood, he bared a cane in his left grasp. He stood in a suspicious way, his cane bearing his weight. I whistled between my front teeth for Gulliver. The man started across the street toward me. I was relieved that Gulliver got to me fast enough, for the man was near me when he came trotting to my side. The man got a frightened look when he saw the size of Gulliver. I jumped, without ease, onto his back, and we cantered back down the street to the pie shop.

Once in the carriage house, Gulliver enjoyed a huge cup of grain and a fresh leaf of dried barley. For a moment, I stayed as I was, stroking Gulliver's muzzle. It wasn't until I saw Mr. Todd exiting Mrs. Lovett's front door that I knew it was safe to enter it. I did casually. Mrs. Lovett was busy rolling pie dough on the counter, humming a tune as she worked. I approached the counter, and set the toffees on it.

"Took ya long enough, I thought someone nabbed you," Mrs. Lovett said.

I began to tap my fingers one-by one on the counter top. "Sorry, ma'am."

I sat down at one of the tables, and she gave me a glass of ale. I sipped it slowly. "Mrs. Lovett?" I asked.

"Yes, Love?"

"I saw a man today, on the side of the street. 'E was lookin' at me as of I didn't belong there."

Mrs. Lovett raised her brows. "What did 'e look like?"

I curled my lips, and remembered the man in the back of my man. "Short, stout, and he 'ad a huge collar on 'is waistcoat."

Mrs. Lovett set down her rolling pin. "Was 'e wearin' a top 'at?" she asked.

I nodded. "A dirty one, at that."

"Yeah, I know 'em. 'E works for Judge Turpin, that bastard man 'e is." I could tell from the way she sneered this that there was some hidden tensions between her and Judge Turpin. She angrily went back to rolling for a mere moment, then, she began to beat the dough with her rolling pin, swearing as she did. "Damn buggar…..bastard man!"

The shop fell silent. It wasn't until it became dark that I broke the awkward silence. Mrs. Lovett finished a whole parcel of meat pies for the day following.

"What kind of moon is tonight, Ma'am?" I asked.

"Ugh….full, I believe, why?"

I raised my brows. I hated the full moons, for it brought out the beast within me. Let's just say that I was born with a special power that I can't control fully. I sprang into action, shutting the curtains and putting out the fires.

"Oi, Genevieve, what are you doin'? We don't close for another twenty minutes," Mrs. Lovett shrieked.

"Sorry for the inconvenience, Ma'am, but I'm afraid that I'm not feelin' well this evenin'."

She advanced before me, and placed her hands on my shoulders. "Alright, Love, go and get yourself some supper and rest. I'm gonna need your 'elp tomorrow."

And with that, I said goodnight to her, and as I went to exit into the house, I pivoted on my heel. "Where are you going?" I asked her.

"Oh, I'm goin' to take Mr. Todd his supper," she said, gesturing toward a tray with meat pies and a bottle of gin on it.

I nodded, and slowly entered the house.

_Mrs. Lovett's POV…_

Later that night, after my visit to Mr. Todd, I quietly snuck back into my shop. I was careful and quiet, for I did not want to wake Genevieve from her restful sleep. I was a little cautious, for when I entered the shop, it was pitch black. Funny, I thought that I told Genevieve to keep the fire on until I got home. I set Mr. Todd's tray on the counter, and snuck towards the archway into my house.

Why, Genevieve was not asleep on the floor before the fireplace as she normally is. I crept toward the back room, only to discover that there was no Genevieve in sight. I went into my sitting room, and lit a candelabrum.

"Genevieve," I whispered. "Where are you?"

Silence split the night.

"Gen….-," I was interrupted the sound of the cellar door closing.

I quickly made my way outside, and around the side of my house to the cellar. I walked slowly down the cold, dank steps. The familiar smell of must and the burning oven spiraled in the atmosphere around me. There was a table in the corner, opposite the oven. I had a feeling that something was under that table. I stalked, mightily slow, towards it.

A strident growl was heard.

As I neared the table, it got louder. Something in my gullet told me to run, but my instincts told me to hold my ground. Suddenly, and not very conspicuously, I could make out the figure of pearly white fangs. Whatever it was, it bared its fangs, and hissed. An immense black figure jumped from behind the table, knocking me falling. The creature leaped over my head, and took off up the stairs.

There was only one thing on my mind.

_Genevieve. _


	5. Exploring London

**Sorry if this scene doesn't have much detail, but, I think we all know what happens in Toby's introduction in the film. ;) Oh yeah, and no shaving contest yet, that's later. Senor Piralli shall make another appearance before his death. **

About a week later, Mrs. Lovett, Mr. Todd , and I all awoke early, and went exploring London. I was going to take Gulliver, until I discovered that Mr. Todd would be tagging along with us. By that time, my new dress was finished, and left it out for me. I thanked her about one thousand times for getting it made for me. It seemed that she was much more gracious than I had thought.

We skipped jollily through the streets, twirling in circles as we dance along the back alleys. We came to a small market, where a wagon selling elixirs was parked. A stage was built onto the front of the wagon, and the sign read: _Piralli's Miracle Elixir. _A whole crowd of curious people surrounded the wagon; we joined them.

A little boy with an absurdly big hat strode out of the wagon, playing quite the beat on a drum. The little boy began to sing us a song, explaining the importance of said elixir; apparently, it's to help one who's loosing their hair. found it absurd, being a barber and all, that when the little boy tossed him a bottle, began to challenge them. Mr. Todd opened the bottle and began examining it.

"Looks like piss," he half-sang. He sniffed it. "Smells like piss."

He then handed the bottle to Mrs. Lovett and her and I sniffed it.

"Smells like-," I began

"-EW-," Mrs. Lovett and I both shrieked.

Mr. Todd cordially took the bottle from me, and re-quirked it. "This is piss, piss wiv ink!" he spat aloud.

"Ladies seem to luv it," sang the little boy atop the stage. By this time, he took off his hat, revealing long, blond curls.

"-Flies do to-," Mrs. Lovett sang in a monotone.

Then, as if everyone was captivated by the small boy, the lot of people pushed and shoved their way into line to buy elixir. Apparently Mr. Todd's "piss" comment didn't work. As I scanned the crowd, I recognized Judge Turpin's man who had been following me. He stood, queerly, on the curb by the fountain. I hated the way he stared at me, so I whirled around, my back to him. But I could still feel his eyes on me. It was like they were drilling a hole through my skull, trying to reach my brains.

Before people began getting too crazy, Mr. Todd , Mrs. Lovett , and I all booked out of there. Next, Mrs. Lovett took us to the market and showed us many things.

She picked up fresh barley, and took an immense whiff of it. "Mmm, I love that smell."

She held it in front of me, so I could sniff it. "That's lovely smelling," I said.

After the market, we all went back to the pie shop for pies. Mrs. Lovett whipped them up quickly, and all three of us were done in an instant. Once done with evening meal, I played Mrs. Lovett's piano as her and Mr. Todd whirled one another around. It sure was a happy day, and for once in my life, I totally forgot about my second half.


	6. Toby

**Guess what readers? I just got done ordering my very own Sweeney Todd copy off of Tim Burton's Sweeney site! So, I'll have more experience. It will be here in three day's so…I'll update soon! I have a question, do you think it would be appropriate if I had Mr. Todd give Genevieve a small trim. I mean, I know barbers do only men but, that doesn't mean that Sweeney can't help Genevieve can it? Let me know!**

_Genevieve's POV_

Over the next few days Mrs. Lovett and I helped Mr. Todd prepare for the opening of his shop again. When the shop was all cleaned, a man was hired to paint a sign for him. _Sweeney Todd's Tonsorial Parlor_, that's what was painted. And finally, it was opening day, and asked me to uncover the sign, which I did with a huge pull of the sheet that covered it. The sheet flowed gracefully to the ground, flapping and sailing in the gentle England breeze towards the cobblestone street. Applause was heard from below, it was Mrs. Lovett and .

As soon as the shop was open, we all ate pies in the shop, as always. We then sat on the small porch outside the pie shop, just waiting for customers. I sat in a small wicker chair, my feet up on a barrel of what was once beer, I'm sure it was flat by now. Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd sat at my right, also in wicker chairs, talking about the sea.

"I've always wanted to go to the sea," said Mrs. Lovett. "But Albert would never let me," she admitted, her eyes becoming slightly downcast. "I- Who is that?" she gasped, standing from her chair, and looking across the street.

Across the street, was a tall man with a mustache. He strode cordially towards us, with a small boy behind him. I could've sworn that I recognized the boy's blue jacket. He had long, brass curls, and a small hat on his head. The man wore a very foreign-looking outfit.

He approached us.

"Hello, I am Senor Piralli, are you the one they call 'Todd'?" the man asked. I could tell from his accent that he was not from England, like Mrs. Lovett, Mr. Todd, and I. Why, I believe he's Italian!

Mr. Todd got to his feet. "I am," he said, a little obnoxiously. "How may I help you?" he asked.

Senor Piralli quirked a brow, then, sniffled. "I hear that you are quite the man with a razor. Your shop has just opened, has it not?" he asked smoothly.

"It has," exclaimed Mr. Todd.

"Well, I am requiring a shave. Would you be so kind?"

"Of course," replied Mr. Todd.

Senor Piralli gestured to the boy. He took off his hat and jacket, and handed it to him. "Hold onto this lad," he hissed. "Don't drop it."

We watched as Mr. Todd escorted the Italian man into his shop. Mrs. Lovett followed behind.

I approached the little boy. " 'Ello," I said, kindly.

The boy looked skinny. And I felt stupid when I finally realized who it was. Why, it was the boy who was selling the elixirs.

" 'Ello," he said.

"Are you 'ungry?" I asked, gesturing to his skinny figure.

"Pardon me?" he asked, flabbergasted.

I raised my brows. "Are you 'ungry?" I asked.

He nodded. "Where on earth are we going to get food out here?"

I giggled. "Not out here! That lady that was with Mr. Todd, that's Mrs. Lovett, me boss-," I made a small sweep around the porch, gesturing my raised hand at her shop-" and this is 'er pie shop. I can get you a pie, if you'd like one."

Suddenly, he dropped Senor Piralli's effects on the ground. "Please," he said.

I flicked my head toward the door. "C'mon then, fresh meat pies await us."

We smoothly entered the shop. As I advanced to the counter, he stood awkwardly in the doorway. He must have been surprised at how dusty the place was. Poor Mrs. Lovett hardly had any customers at all.

"Sit you down, Boy," I said sweetly.

He took a seat at one of the tables. I quickly brought him a warm meat pie, which he dug his face into. Funny, I had never seen someone devour a meat pie in how fast he managed to do it, even if they weren't that great. I quickly got him some gin. "What's your name?" I asked, putting the glass on the table next to him.

"Toby," he replied, his mouth full of meat pie.

"Well, Toby, explain me this. How on earth are you blond while your father 'as black hair?" I asked.

He swallowed his mouth full of pie. "'E's not me father. I work for 'im. I 'elp him sell elixirs," he admitted.

"Oh," I said. I found this boy peculiar. He seemed much more familiar than what I remembered from the elixir sale. He looked as if I had seen him sometime before. "Anyway, my name's Genevieve. Genevieve Willoughby," I said.

Toby gasped. "Your not Lovett's daughter?" he asked.

I shook my head. "Good heavens, no. I wish I was though, she's a sweet lady. It's sad, everyone judges her by her looks. I think she's beautiful," I said.

He nodded. "That she is."

I nodded. "So, what's the story with your 'air?" I asked, referring to his brass curls.

He flipped off hi hat, and grabbed his hair, and lifted it off his head. "It's a wig," he said, ruffling his head full of actually brown curls. "I 'ate wearin' that thing. Makes me 'ead itch terrible."

Just then, Mrs. Lovett's re-entered the shop. " 'Ello, dearies," she greeted.

I stood up. "Mrs. Lovett, this is Toby. I gave 'im a pie, I 'ope you don't mind. 'E was lookin' mighty hungry-," I trailed when she cut me off there.

"Oh, I don't mind," she said, waving her hand. She made a quick sweep over to the oven, and threw some more pies in to bake. I admired the way she smoothly did so. The next thing I knew, she was sitting beside me drinking gin with Toby and me. "What a day, what a day," she said. "I think Mr. Todd's goin' to do quite fine with 'is shop," she said.

All I did was nod. I then turned my attention to watching Toby eat.

A while passed, and Toby was worried that Senor Piralli would miss an appointment of some sort, so, he bolted from the pie shop.

"Genevieve, be a dear and take the pies out while I go fetch the lad," Mrs. Lovett said, as she flew out the door after Toby.

I gulped. Never had Mrs. Lovett asked me to do anything involving the oven. Then again, why am I so afraid? I'm a werewolf, and isn't that scary enough? I charged over to the oven, and opened it. Quickly, I reached in to grab the tray. I took it out without ease, and set it on the counter. I closed it, and paused. I smelled burning fur, or rather, hair. I quickly ran over to the window, and stared at my reflection. The ends of two of my biggest tendrils were on fire! I screamed. I fell on the floor and began crying out. I closed my eyes, when a voice was heard.

"Genev- MY GOD!" said the female voice.

The next thing I knew, a whole lot of water fell coolly onto my face.

Someone's hands were placed on both sides of my face. "You're alright, Lovett's here." It was Mrs. Lovett! "It's gone," she cooed.

I lay there in a bit of shock and turmoil. Mrs. Lovett sat me up, and began examining the hair that had been burnt. "C'mon, let me 'elp you," she said.


	7. Haircut

**Got my Sweeney Todd copy finally in the mail yesterday! I have watched it five times already and still want more! So, I'll be able to squeeze Genevieve into the plot a little better. Here's a mush scene that I got up at midnight to write because I couldn't get the idea from my head. **

_Genevieve's POV…_

Later that night, everything was all wrong. Mrs. Lovett was astounded so much that she immediately fell asleep. Earlier, Toby discovered that Senor Piralli had left him behind. He was like me in a way, homeless, craving paternal affection. So, Mrs. Lovett fell for the lad, and allowed him to stay with us, and help run the shop. Toby now slept next to Mrs. Lovett's small sofa, on the floor by the fire. I lay in my spot by Mrs. Lovett's feet, also upon the floor, twirling my burnt tendrils around my index finger. I hated what happened to me earlier, and I wished that there was something that I could do.

Then, suddenly, it hit me!

I quietly got from my spot, and grabbed one of the candles burning brightly on the mantle. Quietly, I snuck from the shop, and went up the stairs. Once inside the tonsorial parlor, I was surprised to find Mr. Todd awake in his barber chair.

"Mr. Todd," I whispered.

His head snapped up, as if he just noticed that I was standing there. "Oh, Genevieve, it's you. Come in," he bade softly. "What can I do for you?" he whispered.

My hair was looped on my head and held into place with a piece of fabric Mrs. Lovett tore from something. "I need a barber's assistance," I said. I set the candle down on the trunk, and took a step toward him. I reached up atop my head, and pulled the piece of fabric from my head, allowing the rest of my hair to tumble down upon my shoulders. "I 'ad and accident earlier, involvin' Mrs. Lovett's oven," I informed him sweetly, pulling at one of my tendrils. "Will you 'elp me?" I asked.

He stood up. "Come 'ere, love," he bade softly.

I did.

He took one of my brown tendrils between his fingers. "Caught yourself on fire, didn't you?" he asked.

"Yes, Sir, it was a pure accident."

He chuckled. "Come now, Genevieve, sit. I'll 'elp ya," he said.

I had only seen Mr. Todd work his ways with a razor, but, never a pair of scissors. Quietly, and almost inconspicuously, he gently trimmed the burnt hair from my tendrils. Pieces fell gracefully to the floor and into my lap.

"You have nice curls," said Mr. Todd. "You don't want to cut into those curls," he said, cutting a little more. He sighed. "So, 'ow is Lovett treatin' you these days?" he asked, as if he didn't know.

"Fine, just fine," I replied.

Over the month I had been here, I had never been so happy in my life. I admired Mrs. Lovett and her true beauty. I was once surrounded by dukes and duchesses aplenty, but now, Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd's working life felt like home to me. And I was more than sure that Toby felt the same way.

"What were they like, Genevieve?" he asked.

I turned to him. "Pardon me, Sir. Who?"

His face saddened. "Your parents. What were they like? I'm sure they were better parents than I was."

"Nonsense, Mr. Todd. I may 'ave loved me parents, but, they liked to ignore me so. They would go out most of the time, and leave me 'ome alone," I said. I was taken a bit aback, and I didn't want to be reminded my many years of hidden-depression. "I hated being wealthy. People hated me for it."

Mr. Todd nodded. "I feel for ya," he said.

He trimmed a little more. I hated saying goodbye to my hair but, it had to be done. It seemed that with every piece that fell to the floor, part of my former life fell with it. Perhaps Mrs. Lovett's oven did me a favor by burning my hair, for my hair had been so much with me. Perhaps I would forget all the years of being ignored. I sat quietly as Mr. Todd finished with my tendrils, and he put his scissors away. "There ya go, love," he said, wiping off his scissors.

"Thank you, Mr. Todd," I said.

"You're welcome, now, I suggest you go back downstairs to Mrs. Lovett," he said. "She's probably worried."

I nodded. "Yes, yes, quite right." I reached into my pocket and pulled out a penny that someone tipped me for helping them retrieve directions to the water ports. I began digging for more. "'Ow much do I owe you?" I asked.

I put his hand up. "Nothing. Consider it the first cut I gave in my new life," he said.

_Wait! I thought you just gave Senor Piralli a cut this morning?_ Very perplexed, I politely thanked him, then, strode from the shop, grabbing the candle before I left. It was odd that Mr. Todd didn't consider Senor Piralli. Then again, he shaved Senor Piralli; perhaps that's what he meant. Or maybe, he didn't shave Senor Piralli at all?

I quietly snuck into the shop again. I was surprised to see Toby sitting at the booth by the window. His head was propped up on his hand, and he looked exhausted. Mrs. Lovett was nowhere in sight. I could hear loud heaving noises coming from the washroom.

"Poor thing, she's sick," Toby said.

I arched a brow. "What 'appened, Toby?" I asked, taking a seat across from him.

He began to tremble. "She got up and began moaning. I tried to 'elp her but, she wouldn't let me," he said, saddened. "Perhaps you should see if she will be alright," he suggested.

"'Ow long 'as it been before she got up?" I asked.

"Just a few minutes," he said. "Oh, Genevieve, please make sure she's alright."

I nodded.

Quietly, I walked out into the washroom. Mrs. Lovett was on her knees, vomiting into a wooden bucket. She was straining her muscles, as if making herself vomit. I thought about how I had been down such road, and went to her side. I gently held her hair from her face.

"There, there," I cooed.

_Oh, Eleanor Lovett, what have you done to yourself?_

"You shouldn't be in here, Genevieve," she finally said when she got a break from hurling. "I'd 'ate myself if you caught somethin'."

_If I caught somethin'? How silly! Werewolves are practically immortal. _

"I can't 'elp it if my employer is sick," I said. "Allow me to 'elp," I bade.

And with that, I sat beside my employer, helping her get through a sudden sickness.


	8. Turpin's visit

**Were winding down too the final battle, but not quite yet! In this chapter, something peculiar happens to one of the characters. I won't say who….**

_Mrs. Lovett's POV…_

I had no idea why I was as sick as I was. I didn't want to know either. All I knew was that my stomach burned with the hint of illness. Genevieve stayed right with me, and we were soon joined by Toby. How could I be such a cold fish when it came to children? These two children vowed their work effort and time into making sure that I was both healthy and comfortable. I respected them more for this.

Mr. T was getting on well with his tonsorial parlor. But I didn't feel bad about the fact that Mr. T had murdered Senor Piralli. I actually found some comforting joy in the action. After all, that man treated Toby poorly. We had a body that was moldering in Mr. T's trunk, but, thanks to my wits, that was no longer a problem. The body- or what remains of it- has been battered into submitting and lushly baked into meat pies. Very delicious meat pies, if a baker may have an opinion.

"Ma'am," said Toby from the doorway. "Will you be requiring anything?" he asked.

I looked his way from my settee. "No," I simply said.

He nodded and disappeared into the pie shop.

Though I was sick, I had business to sort out. About the black wolf I saw in my bake house. It was Genevieve and Genevieve was it. How on earth could something like this exist? It seems to unrealistic and paranormal to exist in a city as boring and wild as London. Perhaps she was cursed by Lucy Barker or something. I wouldn't put it past that old nag. I could see images of the wolf in my mind. Slick, jet black fur, huge sharp, white fangs and teeth. And not to mention the beautiful- yet intriguing- golden-amber color to the eyes. The creature had the deepest growl and the burliest snarl I had ever heard. Perhaps I should be open-minded towards this. Perhaps I should just come out and ask her about it.

I was absolutely certain of one thing. I could not let the Beadle, Judge Turpin, or Mr. T get a whiff about her.

_Genevieve's POV…_

After Mrs. Lovett fell sick, Toby and I took over the shop. He waited at the counter for customers, even though there were none. I swept the outsides steps, and surveyed the faces of the people who walked passed. I saw that man again, the one they call "Beadle", according to Mrs. Lovett. The man who worked for Judge Turpin. He was walking toward Mr. Todd's staircase. And, he had Judge Turpin at his side.

I quickly dropped the broom, and ran into Mrs. Lovett's alcove.

"Mrs. Lovett, Mrs. Lovett," I shouted.

"What is it, love?" she asked quickly.

"Beadle is here, and e's got Turpin with 'im. They're goin' up to Mr. Todd's," I informed her while trying to successfully catch my breath.

"Blimey," muttered Mrs. Lovett. "Quick, 'elp me up."

I did so and I made sure that I was extremely careful while handling her. Something smelled odd about her, quite the elegant smell. Normally, all she smelled of was bloody meat and grease. But not today; today she smelled very sweet. Very sweet scented indeed.

She crossed the room to the window. "Look, dearie, you're right. 'E's goin' to Mr. T's for a shave," she pointed out.

"Perhaps we should follow 'em," I said.

She shook her head. "No dearie. I've got an idea, go and fetch Toby; we can do somethin' together, all three of us."

"Yes, ma'am," I replied, turning from the window and heading into the pie shop.

Toby was nowhere in sight. I decided at the last minute to check the bake house. As I made my way to the double doors into the bake house, I could hear singing coming from Mr. Todd's above me. Once I was in the bake house, the sweet smell of pies filled the air. I sniffed the air happily, and licked my lips. Toby was nowhere in near sight, I decided to check the sewers. My boots made soft sounds as I tiptoed in the stink-filled hole-like corridors.

"Toby," I called quietly.

A strident growl was heard. I stopped in my tracks, and slowly turned around, careful not to move a muscle.

There was only one thing I cold say when I saw what was before me.

"Not you too," I whispered.


	9. Toby's Secret

_Genevieve's POV…_

I was staring into the face of a fellow werewolf; and not just any werewolf, Toby. His appearance was much different than mine. He still had the long, smooth muzzle and gleaming white teeth. But his fur was pure white, and a black spot covered his left eye. His eyes were not my golden amber, why, they were turquoise blue, almost the color of the Thames. Toby bared his immense fans, and snarled. As I took one good look at the black fur surrounding his left eye, my hand immediately shot to the back of my neck. When I was in my wolf form, I had a white spot on the back of my neck.

"Easy, Toby," I soothed.

As I inched toward him, he let out another snarl, deeper than before.

"Listen, Toby, I know what that's like. Believe it or not, I'm a werewolf too," I whispered.

"Prove it," he hissed in a voice much deeper than his human voice.

It was odd; most werewolves chose not to speak. Most of us choose to stay mute like our ancestors. However, Toby was the kind of young wolf who was non-traditional.

"Alright," I huffed.

I quietly inhaled, and began to think. _I am fearless. I am powerful. I am speed. I am strength. I am the wolf_, I thought, encouraging my mind to transform. And suddenly, almost like magic, slick black fur poked out from my pores, and I was on four paws. It was true that one thinks we can only change during a full moon, such is true. But, they know not that we my also choose to transform by will. I avoided this at all costs, for I liked living normally among humans.

"See," I said, turning in a circle so he could inspect every inch of me. "I'm just like you."

The white wolf lowered his ears to his head. "I'm sorry," he said.

I sniffed in his direction, and began wagging my tail. "Did you know your parents, Toby?" I asked.

He shook his head. "I was taken to the workhouse just after I was born."

I could remember once, when I was very little, when my mother had come home from a trip, and she was large with child. I waited so many months to find out what caused my mother to inflate so. I was told two years later by my father that Mother was pregnant, and she lost the baby. I was then told by my nursemaid that they gave the baby up, a little boy.

"Well, Toby, you know of your black spot that there on your face?" I asked. My tail was wagging a mile a minute.

"Yeah," he replied.

"Well," I said, turning around again, more slowly this time. "Look 'ere," I said, flashing my white spot.

"You 'ave a white spot!" he shrieked happily.

"Yes. Do you know what this means, Toby?"

"No."

"We are siblings," I calmly said.

His ears perked up again, and he began to step back. "But, but, 'ow?"

"Don't you know? Werewolves with corresponding spots are in relation somehow. It's a proven fact. If they are blood siblings, they bear the spot the color of their sibling's fur," I said, gesturing the end of my muzzle toward his face. "I 'ave a white spot, and you 'ave a black spot, face it, Toby, we are indeed siblings." Whew, that was a mouthful. I was lucky that I knew my werewolf history.

His face suddenly angered, and he tried to snarl at me. But something stopped him. He then loosened, and the next thing I knew, he was smiling. He stepped forward, and began to repeatedly lick my muzzle. He stopped. "You're right, Genevieve, we are siblings! I thought you looked familiar."

"Yes, and you looked familiar to me."

He looked down the tunnel. "What do we do now?" he asked.

"Easy, we protect Mrs. Lovett," I said proudly. "A woman of 'er quality all alone is not a good thing. Then again, she 'as got Mr. Todd,"

"I do not trust Mr. Todd. Do not mention 'im in my presence if you'd be so kind," he hissed.

I nodded. "I agree." Even though Mr. Todd was kind enough to chop off my soiled hair, I sure got a bad feeling about him when he held the scissors so close to my face.

"Toby! Genevieve!" called the familiar voice of Mrs. Lovett from atop the bake house stairs. "Fresh meat pies are up 'ere with your names on them."

Toby looked at me. We slowly both began to morph. Once on two legs again, we took each other's hand, and ran to her. She must have been feeling better because she practically ran behind us into the pie shop. Toby and I immediately dug in. As soon as we were done, that's when things started to get interesting.


	10. Get Out!

**Surprise! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! Wait? It's not your birthday? Lol, just kidding. So, how do you like my little Toby and Genevieve surprise? **

**Well, just so you know the end is near, but not as near as you'd think. **

_Genevieve's POV…_

I kept both mine and Toby's secrets as concealed as I possibly could. Mrs. Lovett never suspected a thing about him, even though she already knew about me. For months on end we secretly changed and went deer hunting while Mrs. Lovett slept. Many a night did we ever-so-quietly slip from the pie shop to run our hearts out in the pitch-back forest just outside of London. The funny thing about all this is that Toby hasn't learned to howl yet, so, I take him as far away from London as I can and we howl together. I knew for a fact that if the old woman who begs for alms on Fleet Street heard us, she would blame Mrs. Lovett for it all.

This continued for about five months, then, we got to take a trip to the sea to Mr. Todd's expense. We were so happy to see Mrs. Lovett get her dream. She practically cried when she found out where we were going. It was a wonderful trip. Mrs. Lovett, Mr. Todd, Toby and I played in the ocean repeatedly. We splashed each other with water. We then had picnics on the beach.

During the night, in the cabin we rented for the week, while Toby and I slept, Mrs. Lovett and Mr. Todd would sneak out, giggling as they went. Now, I know what they were up to. I always found myself laughing loudly after I knew they were far enough from the cabin that they wouldn't hear me. I was a strange young lass. I found sexuality funny when it's supposed to be serious.

"What are you laughing about?" asked Toby, who I took to be asleep but who was actually awake. I told him it was an adult joke and that I'd explain when he was older.

When we returned back to London, and the pie shop, things were normal again. We went back to selling boat-loads of pies, and receiving quite the purse for it. While Toby and Mrs. Lovett ran to the market, I stayed behind and took care of the customers.

I began rolling dough on the counter, singing as I did. "_Green finch and linnet bird, nightingale, black bird, teach me how to siiiinnnngggg…_," I paused, and turned my attention to the door. There stood a man, a very handsome man. I tightened my grip on the rolling pin. "May I 'elp you, sir?" I asked.

The man crossed the counter, until her was about two feet before me. "Yes. I am Anthony Hope. Do you know where I could find Mr. Todd?" he asked.

I looked at the man's darting black eyes and realized that it was safe to converse with him. "Yes, I believe 'e is upstairs," I replied.

Anthony Hope looked around, and then peered up the staircase within the pie shop that went up to the tonsorial parlor, the one Mrs. Lovett told us to never use. Something in his eyes burned with hatred, but what could it be? He turned back to me. "Are you the one they call 'Mrs. Lovett'?" he asked.

I laughed loudly. "I wish! No, dearie, I'm Genevieve Willoughby."

"You are a relative of Mrs. Lovett, then?"

"Hardly."

"Are you an employee of hers?" he asked, much flabbergasted.

I nodded. "Aye that be it, there!" I quietly went back to dough-rolling. "What are you lookin' for Mr. Todd for, love?" I asked.

Anthony Hope shook his head. "I require his assistance with something."

Just then, Toby kicked the door open with his foot, and then staggered into the shop carrying a huge bag of flour.

"Well, well, well, look at you, Lad," I said, practically laughing at him. "'Elpin' out 'ole Mrs. Lovett with her groceries!"

Toby threw the bag of flour over the edge of the counter, where it fell with a crash to the floor. Toby then looked disappointed. I walked over to the flour sack, and slung it over my shoulder with only one hand. "Don't worry, Toby, just keep eatin' meat pies and you'll get stronger," I informed him. I looked at Anthony Hope. "Mr. Hope, this is Toby, another employee of Mrs. Lovett."

"Please, call me Anthony," said Anthony Hope.

"Alright," I replied. "Anthony."

Mrs. Lovett strode into the hop, struggling more with her own bag of flour than Toby did. I walked over to her. I snatched the flour sack from her, and slung it over my other shoulder. "Ma'am, this is Mr. Anthony Hope, 'e's come lookin' for Mr. T," I said to her.

"Alright. Take those down to the bake 'ouse for me would ya?" she asked, patting my shoulder.

"Yes, Ma'am."

I quietly made my way down to the bake house. As soon as the flour sacks were where they were supposed to be, I began to realize what was near. It was the day of the first full moon of the month. Tonight Toby and I would transform, and I would have to conceal us from everyone. I would take Toby to the manor, or rather, the remnants of it. The place where the both of us were born, it would be so nice to go back.

"Genevieve!" called Mrs. Lovett for me, "we 'ave customers!"

"Coming, Mrs. Lovett!" I called back.

I collected my skirt in my fists and bolted back up to the shop. But when I got there, I never expected to see what I did. Anthony had taken his leave and a man had Mrs. Lovett pinned against the wall, her meat cleaver to her neck. When I saw this, I reacted quickly, and ripped from my dress. I landed on four paws, and shot my ears back, but I remained quiet.

"Where is he? Mr. Todd, I mean, where is he?" hissed the man. "Where is Todd?"

"'E's upstairs," Mrs. Lovett managed to stammer.

Suddenly, the man turned around.

It was Judge Turpin!

I snarled loudly, for all to hear.

"BY GOD!" he shouted. He dropped the meat cleaver with a ping upon the floor. "What in the name of god?"

I began to slowly inch forward. I dropped my tail flat between my hind legs, and lowered my head a bit. Judge Turpin dropped his hold of Mrs. Lovett, and bolted for the door. Mrs. Lovett slid down from the wall, and landed into a sitting position. She began to breathe deeply. I inched toward her, my side to her. I stopped, and calmly looked at her.

_I will protect you, Lovett_, I thought.

I focused my attention to Judge Turpin, who stood in the doorway, looking rather angered. Suddenly, he launched himself across the room, and belly-slid, managing to grab the meat cleaver in his hands.

I bounded across the room, and stood before him, growling in his very face.

He got to his feet, and launched himself toward Mrs. Lovett. Then suddenly, without noticed, Toby knocked him across the room.

"TOBY!" I called in happiness.

Toby got in Judge Turpin's face, and snarled. He then chased him out the pie shop door, and into the street. He ran, cursing us. Toby neared Mrs. Lovett slowly. Mrs. Lovett began to panic. She grabbed her rolling pin from the counter, and began to swing it at Toby.

"GET, YOU! GET OUT!" she screamed.

"Ma'am, it's me, Toby," Toby whined from behind his wolf teeth.

"You Lie! Toby is not a monster! GET!" She yelled.

What had gotten into her?

She then picked up many glass bowls and began chucking them at us. One hit Toby in his head, and, being a male werewolf, it angered him. He launched at her, teeth bared. I jumped behind him, and grabbed the flab of skin behind his neck, and pulled him back.

"Toby, don't!" I hissed. I grabbed his skin again, and began to pull him towards the door. "Mrs. Lovett wants us out. You know the rules I taught you. The treaty, we must stay away from those places in which we are not welcome."

"GET OUT!" yelled Mrs. Lovett.

And with that, we both fled the shop. Mrs. Lovett stood on the porch behind us. She had a broom, and was waving it around, as if to hit us if we neared her. "DON'T YOU EVER COME BACK! I DON"T WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN!"

We ran from Fleet Street, people looking at us oddly. I hate t say it but, I loved Mrs. Lovett and I would miss her. Surely Mr. T would come looking for us.

**What's going on with Mrs. Lovett? Hmmm…. Let's find out, for the next chapter is the second to last! **


	11. Save the Baker!

_**Alright, time for the final battle!**_

_Mrs. Lovett's POV…_

How could they? Betray me like so? I knew Genevieve was a creature all along, but, I never expected Toby to be one! It was just too much to handle. I had to shoo them from me. I didn't trust them anymore. I never was good with children anyway.

I sat at my counter, lightly sipping gin. I could've sworn that something moved inside me. I decided that I was just catching a cold again.

"Eleanor," said a voice from the doorway. I gently turned my head toward the voice. Why, it was my lover-boy, Mr. T. He stood, back pressed against the wall, wiping his bloody razor on a towel. "Got more meat for the pies," he said. He entered the shop, scanning around. "Where are the children?" he asked, stepping into the light.

"They've gone out," I said flatly.

He took a seat next to me. "Well, while they're out, let's take advantage of the empty barber's chair, shall we?" he whispered into my ear. I could feel his hot breath on the nape of my neck.

I turned my eyes to him. "Later, Dearie, I'm afraid I'm not feelin' up to date."

"Alright, then, later."

I got up. "I 'ave pies to take out in the bake 'ouse. Please excuse me."

I then walked smoothly to the bake house. On my way down there, the Beadle and Judge Turpin were standing by the entrance to the barber shop. I ignored them, I hated them anyways. Besides, I had pies to make.

_Genevieve's POV…_

We stayed away from the pie shop for hours. It bothered me so to be away from Mrs. Lovett and Mr. T, even though I was starting to hate Mr. T. I don't know why, but ever since the trip to the beach, I started to burn with hatred towards him. Toby and I wandered the dark back alleys of London, as Gulliver and I used to do. Wait!

Gulliver!

I left my beautiful horse on Fleet Street! What if Mr. T or Mrs. Lovett sold him to a butcher. He's all I have left of my father, I had to go back for him!

Toby and I had been sitting under a tree by the docks, when I remembered Gulliver.

"We 'ave to go back for 'im!" I insisted.

"But, Mrs. Lovett said to never come back," Toby said quietly.

"I guess I don't care. Besides, I don't trust Mr. Todd. We 'ave to go back."

So we did, but as we got to the end of Fleet Street, we could hear a loud, blood-curdling scream. Many of them, actually. The hair on the back of my neck stood erect. I noticed that Toby's did as well. His ears shot up.

"Is that Mrs. Lovett?" he asked.

"I think so. C'mon," I urged.

As we ran toward the pie shop, I could see the old lady standing at the corner. The one who absolutely hated Mrs. Lovett.

"The witch is sproutin' wolves!" she shrieked.

Toby growled at her, which caused her to run away. I grabbed his neck again and we ran.

I lead him at a running pace, around the pie shop, and through the area with the picnic tables. I decided to be sly and launched myself over four picnic tables at a time. Toby did the same, giggling as he did it. I slowed to a stalk when we reached the bake house door, which was surprisingly open. As we crept down the stone stairs, we could hear the voices of Mr. Todd and Mrs. Lovett. We stopped and listened.

"You lied to me," said Mr. Todd.

"_No, not lied at all, no I never lied. Said she took a poison, never said that she died. But, it left her weak in the head, poor thing, all she did was just lied there in bed, should've been in hospital, but it left her in bedlam instead_..," Mrs. Lovett sang.

Mr. Todd was crouching over the figure of dead blond woman. He stood up, and turned to her. I gasped, for his face was covered in blood. Now I understood what was in the meat pies all along. It was human meat!

The next thing he did was inch toward her, as she confessed how much she loved him, and how she'd be a better wife than his wife had been. He then began saying how she said not to dwell on the past, and he took her into his arms, and began to dance with her. But as he did it, I noticed what he was up to. As they danced, he directed her toward the huge bake oven, which was open.

"Toby, stay here," I whispered.

He did so.

I watched, as Mr. Todd lifted Mrs. Lovett off her feet. I took off after them, snarling as I did.

He tossed her towards the open flames just as I launched myself into mid-air. As Mrs. Lovett tumbled toward the flames, my life seemed to slow into slow-motion. I felt the hem of her dress slip through my teeth, and I clenched down. With all my might, I forced her away from the flames, and she flew across the room. She landed near a wall, and just laid there. I turned to Mr. Todd and snarled.

He began to laugh. "Well, if it isn't naughty little Genevieve," he hissed. He held up a razor. "Come to die with 'er 'ave you?" he asked, gesturing toward Mrs. Lovett, who was half-awake, and held her head up.

"No I 'ave not. I'm here to deliver your death sentence."

He laughed again. "Is that so? Well, you should enjoy watching me gut your baker alive then," he sneered.

"Go to hell," I said.

He paused, and looked at me. "Yes, but 'er first," he said, holding the razor high above his head.

As he wet to strike, a white figure jumped from the staircase and knocked him over.

It was Toby!

Toby sat, crouched on Mr. Todd's chest. "Your razors can't save you now," he hissed. And with that, he began to maul the demon barber of Fleet Street.

I quickly turned back into my human form. I was a little embarrassed because I stood there in my knickers, and my corset. I quietly lifted Mrs. Lovett off the ground, and cradled her. I began walking toward the stairs. "Toby, when your finished, toss him into the fire, would ya?"

I carried Mrs. Lovett into her house- alcove, and set her on her settee. She moaned slightly. Her dress was covered in blood from the dead body. She smelled of rotten carcass as well. While she was unconscious, I changed her gown for her. But I noticed something about her body. I looked at her corset, and realized, that there was a small bump in it. I was a little weary about it, so I set my hand flat on it.

"Everything alright?" Toby asked, striding into the room. He stopped and looked at me. I looked up at him. He was sweaty and covered in Mr. Todd's blood. His black hair was spiked up from sweat. He looked down at my hand. "What are you doin'?" he asked.

I quickly took my hand away. "Toby, while I get poor Mrs. Lovett dressed, why don't you go draw yourself a bath?"

"Alright. Oh, I brought you something," he said, reaching into his pocket. He pulled out Mr. Todd's razor, and set it on the mantle. "This will surely get us enough to buy a 'ouse on the sea." He then strode from the room.

I went back to exploring the bump on Mrs. Lovett's corset. Did she have a tumor from something?

Suddenly, Mrs. Lovett's hand came over mine, and gently pressed mine down. Her eyes slowly opened, and they looked at me. "Genevieve," she whispered. She took my other hand in hers. "Where am I?"

I gently stroked her palm with my thumb. "You're at 'ome, Lovett," I whispered.

She faced me. "What 'appened?"

I sighed. "Mr. Todd tried to murder you. I just couldn't let 'im. Toby and I need you," I replied. "You gave us a 'ome when we needed one most."

She sighed. "Where is Mr. T?" she asked.

"Mr. Todd is dead," said a voice from the doorway. Toby stood there, his hair wet and clean. He was wearing just his trousers, his shirt was bundled up in his fist. He looked rather serious for a boy of his age. He walked toward us, and sat at her feet. "I had to kill 'im. I couldn't be the underdog anymore."

Mrs. Lovett began to shed tears. I knew she loved him and that they had quite the intimate relationship. Being as old as I am, I knew what having such kind of relationship could lead to. And not just too broken hearts. There were other things. Very many other things.

"Mrs. Lovett, what is this?" I asked, gently poking her bump.

She scoffed. "Oh, c'mon, isn't it obvious?" she asked.

I shook my head, and so did Toby.

"I'm pregnant," was all she replied.

Both my and Toby's jaws fell agape. Now, I felt really stupid for not knowing anything.

"And," she sighed. "I'm sorry for throwing you two out. I 'ad no right to do that."

"Yes you did," said Toby. "I'm thankful you did it too. I could've seriously 'urt you. And knowing that there are actually two of you now, it could've been much worse."

All she did was nod.

**Awww, Mrs. Lovett is having a baby! How nice! I hated having to kill Sweeney but it was necessary. I actually love him sooo much! Anyone is as excited for the Oscar Awards as me? Helena is going to win, and when she does, I will fall to my knees crying, I will thank god and Jesus, and I will kiss my bedroom floor. Yeah, I'm that psyched. **


End file.
